Notice: Function _load_textdomain_just_in_time was called incorrectly. Translation loading for the twentyfifteen domain was triggered too early. This is usually an indicator for some code in the plugin or theme running too early. Translations should be loaded at the init action or later. Please see Debugging in WordPress for more information. (This message was added in version 6.7.0.) in /chroot/home/a6f7779a/9d7429a5d9.nxcli.io/html/wp-includes/functions.php on line 6170 {"id":127,"date":"2014-02-17T13:36:15","date_gmt":"2014-02-17T19:36:15","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/?p=127"},"modified":"2014-02-17T18:35:46","modified_gmt":"2014-02-18T00:35:46","slug":"stress-part-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/?p=127","title":{"rendered":"Stress.. (Part 2)"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u2026Stress 2<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

In June of 1960 I graduated from Jeff Davis High School in Houston, Texas. \u00a0The occasion was hardly acknowledged by my parents as I had already been told not to expect them to pay for any type of expense associated with the event. \u00a0They were too committed to the church and any extra money would go there; certainly not to some frivolous and meaningless ceremony that would not guarantee their getting into heaven.<\/p>\n

And so it was that my cap and gown rental and my high school senior ring were mostly paid for with money given to me by someone other than my own parents. \u00a0A kind of charity within family that actually caused me a great deal of stress and plunged into my heart a painful grudge-filled dagger that would take many years for me to remove.<\/p>\n

Part 2<\/b><\/p>\n

A few months before the end of my final high school semester a rare phone call was received at my house. \u00a0My mother having answered the phone, called for me in a highly unusual singsong tone that said, “Good news is on the way.” \u00a0Putting down my homework I saw that she had put the receiver between her breasts and was urgently beckoning me to her with a rapid waving of her free hand.<\/p>\n

Whispering, while at the same time forming each word graphically with her lips, eyes and forehead, she said, “It’s your uncle, quick–quick!”<\/p>\n

“For me? \u00a0What does he want?”<\/p>\n

Eyebrows arching and eyes bulging she said, “I don’t know, but maybe….” and at that point she began to rapidly rub her thumb and forefinger together signifying that money was surely on the way. \u00a0The phone was forcefully thrust into my hand and I hesitatingly greeted my Uncle Frank.<\/p>\n

Before I go on let me tell you a little about my uncle Frank and the rest of the DeLe\u00f3n clan. \u00a0My dad was the youngest in a family of five brothers and one sister and because of\u00a0the DeLe\u00f3n family’s tendency to lead very private, solitary, and distant lives, I never got to know any of them really well. \u00a0Of all my father’s siblings I was only acquainted with three: Louis, the oldest, who with his wife Mary, owned a small grocery store in east Houston; Dolores, married to one Bill Byers,\u00a0worked for Sears in some type of clerical job; and Frank, a widower who had lost a wife and two daughters to tuberculosis in the late 1930’s, and now lived alone. He worked for Younger Brothers Truck Line in Houston as a journeyman painter. \u00a0It was he for whom I’d been named. \u00a0Don’t ask why because I haven’t the slightest idea.<\/p>\n

Lastly, there were two other brothers, Joe and George. \u00a0Joe, the second oldest brother, was a shadowy figure who was never discussed in our house. \u00a0Once, while rummaging through some old boxes in my mother’s closet, I came upon a picture, probably taken in one of those self photo booths, showing a round cherub faced little man dressed in an army uniform balancing a large blond woman on his lap. While she appeared to be panning an over exaggerated toothy smile towards the camera, his attention was seriously riveted on her rather large and mostly exposed breasts. \u00a0His cap was set at a precariously jaunty angle, and on his sleeves he displayed the rank of sergeant. \u00a0When I asked my mother who these people were she said it was my uncle Joe and one of his whores.<\/p>\n

“Where does he live”, I asked, “and how come no one ever told me about him?”<\/p>\n

“No one knows where he is, and we don’t talk about him because he’s not good people. \u00a0Now, put that picture back where you found it and don’t tell your dad that you know about your uncle Joe.”<\/p>\n

I never knew I had an uncle George until one day my father came home from work and told my mom that his brother had died of a massive heart attack. \u00a0From overheard whispers between my parents I learned that he had been forty-four, worked at a steel mill in Houston, was married and had three daughters. \u00a0I don’t know if my father ever went to his brother’s funeral. \u00a0I know I didn’t.<\/p>\n

OK, back to the story: Putting the phone up to my ear with my mom anxiously wide-eyed and edging close to me to try to catch any word slipping out from between the phone and my ear, I heard my uncle’s husky voice greet me. \u00a0He spoke with a sort of Jimmy Durante accent that all the DeLe\u00f3n brothers, except my father, used, (when saying “church” it sounded like “choich”), and he quickly got to the point.<\/p>\n

He asked if I was going to graduate from high school in June. \u00a0I told him I was. \u00a0He then inquired if I had already paid for my cap and gown rental whether I had purchased a senior ring. \u00a0I explained that I had managed to pay the deposit on my ring by using the wages that I had earned that past summer while working as a busboy for a local Mexican restaurant and the Shamrock Hilton hotel, but wasn’t sure how I was going to pay for the balance. I also told him that I probably wouldn’t be renting the cap and gown because I wasn’t planning on attending the graduation ceremony that was going to held at the Houston Coliseum.<\/p>\n

“What do you mean you’re not going to the ceremony?’<\/p>\n

“Well…,”my mind racing for a cover lie, “I really don’t want to go because it’s just a silly show, and they really don’t give you a diploma, it’s just a rolled up piece of paper. \u00a0They mail you the real diploma later.” \u00a0That had been my father’s line. \u00a0He used it to justify to me why I should skip the ceremony and instead go somewhere meaningful, like church. \u00a0I’d heard it so many times before that it just slid off my tongue like a well-memorized Bible verse. \u00a0I saw a little smile cross my mother’s face.<\/p>\n

My uncle began to say something then abruptly stopped. \u00a0After making some noises that sounded like he was clearing his throat he asked if there was any way I could come to visit him at work on Friday. \u00a0I told him that we went to church every night, but maybe if I caught the city bus right after school I could make it there and back before I was expected to be ready to leave for church. \u00a0In any event I would have to clear it with my dad before I could commit to the visit.<\/p>\n

“Choich, on Friday? \u00a0OK boy, you come see me this Friday before choich.” he said. \u00a0“It should take you about an hour if you catch the buses just right, so I’ll expect to see you here no later than 4 o’clock–OK? \u00a0It won’t be a long visit so you should be home by five-thirty so you can go to choich. \u00a0I’ll see you then.”<\/p>\n

“But what if my dad says I can’t go?”<\/p>\n

“He won’t, boy…don’t worry, he won’t.” \u00a0“Bye.” \u00a0And the line went dead.<\/p>\n

My mother took the phone, placed it on the receiver and, flashing all her teeth said, “Well?”<\/p>\n

“Uh, he wants me to visit him on Friday at work. \u00a0But, I told him we went to church and I may not be able to go.”<\/p>\n

“Did he say anything about money?”<\/p>\n

“No, he just asked if I had paid for my graduation cap and gown and school ring.”<\/p>\n

“I heard you tell him about paying for part of it with your savings from your summer jobs. \u00a0That was stupid, because if he plans to give you money now it won’t be as much.”<\/p>\n

‘He didn’t say anything about giving me money,” I said, getting a bit irritated.<\/p>\n

“Well, why else would he want to see you? \u00a0It’s not like he cares about you . Anyway, you plan on going to see him on Friday and I’ll talk to your dad and make sure he’s OK with it. \u00a0I’ll even ask him to give you some bus fare.”<\/p>\n

Well, a few days later my mother gave me a one dollar bill and told me to go to see my uncle on Friday. \u00a0Wow, someone had obviously greased some wheels big time.<\/p>\n

After three bus transfers and an hour after I started my journey I arrived at Younger Brothers Truck line on Griggs Street. \u00a0The company consisted of an oily dirt and shell lot encompassing an entire city block and ringed by a ten foot steel chain link fence. \u00a0A few square flat roofed buildings that served as administrative offices\u00a0sat to the left as I entered through the squeaky gate. \u00a0Each building was painted in an anonymous shade of gray with green tinted glass windows sprouting large rectangular AC units noisily dripping steady streams of extracted water onto the exposed concrete foundation below.<\/p>\n

To the right three large silver tin buildings with large open rollup doors and high small windows near the top rose from the brown, black and gray hardtack. \u00a0Each tin building had its function spray painted on one of the outside walls: “Tires”, “Mechanical”, and “Paint Shop”. \u00a0The printing on the first two buildings appeared to have been made by some second or third grader, displaying a mix of upper and lower case lettering and curving slight lower towards the end, but the last one’s signage was immaculate. \u00a0That building, I knew, belonged to my uncle Frank.<\/p>\n

The center of the property had various pumps, hoses and concrete platforms bulging out of the ground, and the rear seemed to have been reserved as a parking lot for trucks in various states of repair. \u00a0As I made my way towards the paint shop several roughneck type characters, dressed in grimy green or tan khaki shirts and pants–making their way to and from the tin buildings–greeted me with a quick “howdy” and a frighteningly accurate jet of brownish-green spittle shot at some invisible target on the ground. \u00a0A very large and very black bald man wearing a single strapped blue and white set of coveralls chopped off at the knees was bent over in front of the “Tires” building wrestling with a tire and rim larger than anything I had ever seen before. \u00a0As I passed he quickly turned his head.<\/p>\n

“Hey there skinny little white person..ya lost?”<\/p>\n

“No sir, I’m headed to the paint shop to see my uncle Frank.”<\/p>\n

Breaking into a smile that exposed a never ending set of the whitest teeth, he chortled, \u00a0“Sir? \u00a0Little boy you don’t call me sir–I call you sir. \u00a0Get it, ya’ll?”<\/p>\n

“Yes sir, um..I mean, yes…..sir.”<\/p>\n

Grinning larger with huge beads of sweat pouring off his head onto his massive shoulders he said, “Hee, hee, you sometin’ else boy! \u00a0I’m Shine, what yo name?”<\/p>\n

“Frank.”<\/p>\n

“Frank? \u00a0Yo name Frank? \u00a0And yo uncle is Mr. Frank?”<\/p>\n

“Yes sir. \u00a0Um, yes.”<\/p>\n

“Dat too funny boy. \u00a0Go on now, go see yo uncle Frank. \u00a0Yo needs Shine to walks yo over dere?”<\/p>\n

“No s..no. \u00a0I see the paint shop.”<\/p>\n

“OK, if yo needs anyting just yells ‘SHINE’, and I come runnin. \u00a0Get on boy.”<\/p>\n

“Bye…..Shine.”<\/p>\n

As I began to walk away Shine turned his full attention back to the monster tire, throwing it flat on the ground and jumping up and down on it trying to break the bead from the rim.<\/p>\n

Approaching the paint shop I began to smell the pleasing candy-like aroma of lacquer. \u00a0The shop was huge and the ceiling was at least thirty feet high. \u00a0On the back wall there were six huge exhaust fans running full blast causing a gentle cool breeze to breathe through the large front entrance. \u00a0As I walked through the door I saw a big green diesel truck gleaming in the subdued light of the shop. \u00a0It looked like it had just been built, announcing “PeterBilt” in chrome that shone like glassy crystal, paint smooth and flowing like green emerald ice, and rubber stripping laid in like soft black marshmallow. \u00a0It was absolutely the most beautiful vehicle I had ever seen.<\/p>\n

Suddenly, from behind the truck a man appeared. \u00a0At first glance he looked like some beekeeper, dressed all in white from head to foot. \u00a0White netting flowed from his fedora-like hat down to his shoulders and his pants were tucked into his white military style boots.<\/p>\n

Taking off his hat I saw that he was wearing some type of mask over his mouth and nose; and that came off next.<\/p>\n

“Hey boy,” he said in that Jimmy Durante tone (buoy). \u00a0“Like the truck?”<\/p>\n

“Yeah, it’s so cool.”<\/p>\n

“Was a total wreck when I got it. \u00a0Had to rebuild it from the frame up. \u00a0Nice, huh?”<\/p>\n

“Yeah”, I said with heavy awe.<\/p>\n

“How was the bus ride?”<\/p>\n

“Huh?, Oh, OK.”<\/p>\n

He waved me over to a couple of folding chairs (white) against one of the shop walls. \u00a0“You thirsty? \u00a0Want something to drink? \u00a0I got coffee.”<\/p>\n

“No, thanks uncle.”<\/p>\n

“Well then, let’s get down to business. \u00a0So, you a smart guy and graduating high school, eh?”<\/p>\n

“Yes.”<\/p>\n

“Good grades?”<\/p>\n

“Mostly.”<\/p>\n

“Going to college?”<\/p>\n

“No, we don’t have any money for college. \u00a0My mom and dad want me to go to work right away to help pay them back for the expense of raising me.”<\/p>\n

“WHAT?” \u00a0(Sounded like “WAAAAAAAT?”) \u00a0“That’s bullshit. \u00a0Don’t tell them I said that. \u00a0They’ll be mad.”<\/p>\n

“Don’t worry, I won’t”<\/p>\n

“What you owe for the ring?”<\/p>\n

“Well, it was fifty dollars and I paid twenty five down. \u00a0So I still have to pay twenty five to take delivery.”<\/p>\n

“What about the gown and the cap?”<\/p>\n

“Rental is five dollars, but I don’t need them ’cause I’m not going to the graduation. \u00a0For the school senior pictures I can borrow someone else’s.”<\/p>\n

“No, no borrowing. \u00a0You need your own. \u00a0Then maybe you change your mind and go to the ceremony.”<\/p>\n

“Well, even if I wanted to go, I don’t have a ride. \u00a0My dad won’t take me ’cause he’s got church.”<\/p>\n

“Church? (Choich) \u00a0He thinks he’s pretty holy, eh?”<\/p>\n

“I don’t know.”<\/p>\n

“So, how much for the rental?”<\/p>\n

“Five dollars.”<\/p>\n

Looking up to the high ceiling of his paint shop he drew a long lingering breath and closed his eyes. \u00a0He sat there very still for a bit then opened his eyes and looked at me.<\/p>\n

“You know, none of us ever finished school. \u00a0Your father went to the seventh grade and he quit. \u00a0He had the best chance to finish, but he quit. \u00a0Wanted to make money so he could do what he wanted to do. \u00a0Mostly, that was to drink and have fun while the rest of us worked. \u00a0But, don’t tell him I told you that.”<\/p>\n

“OK, I won’t.”<\/p>\n

He got up slowly, first putting his gloved hands on his knees and pushing himself upright. \u00a0Straightening up he took his gloves off and put them on the folding chair. Reaching into his right front pocket he pulled out a greenish-gray cylinder wrapped with a large rubber band. \u00a0He began to roll off the rubber band and when he had it off I saw that the cylinder was made up of paper currency. \u00a0He tucked the rubber band into his shirt pocket and peeled off a bill.<\/p>\n

“Got change?” \u00a0He put a curled up one hundred-dollar bill under my nose.<\/p>\n

“Uh, no,” I said as I unconsciously reached into my pockets with both hands and felt the bus ride home coins.<\/p>\n

“He,he, buoy, that’s a joke.” \u00a0He chuckled.<\/p>\n

“Oh, I didn’t know.”<\/p>\n

“Well, you think (tink) this will cover your ring and stuff?”<\/p>\n

“Yes.”<\/p>\n

“Good. \u00a0Don’t show this to your father, or for that matter, your mother. \u00a0Hide it until Monday then take it to school and pay for your stuff. \u00a0Then have some fun with the rest of the money. \u00a0You young…you should be having fun.”<\/p>\n

“OK.”<\/p>\n

“I mean it.”<\/p>\n

“OK.”<\/p>\n

“Got a girlfriend?”<\/p>\n

“No.”<\/p>\n

“Well, you show the girls dis money and you have a lot of girlfriends!” \u00a0He laughed deeply and ended up with a coughing spasm.<\/p>\n

Finally he cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “Well buoy. \u00a0I’m proud of you. \u00a0You did something we never did. \u00a0That’s good. \u00a0You won’t have to paint cars or trucks to eat, eh?”<\/p>\n

“I hope not.”<\/p>\n

“Good, now go home so you can go get holy with your father at the church. \u00a0The bus should be here in a few minutes.”<\/p>\n

“OK, uncle. \u00a0Thank you very much for the money. \u00a0I’ll think of you whenever I look at my ring, and I’ll try very hard to get to the graduation. \u00a0Thank you uncle.”<\/p>\n

“No thanks. \u00a0You deserve to enjoy this. \u00a0You earned it. \u00a0And, never mind what your folks say…I love you and think of you often. \u00a0Now go!”<\/p>\n

I turned and started to walk out of the paint shop. \u00a0I think it must’ve been the sun hitting my eyes after being in the cool shade of the shop because tears began flowing down my face. \u00a0Never in my life had I ever cried unless I had experienced some physical pain. \u00a0But here I was, walking back out through that gritty oil soaked dirt lot half blinded by the sun and the flood of tears pouring from my eyes. \u00a0It was the first time in my life that I’d known that much happiness and gratitude all at one time.<\/p>\n

Looking up I saw that I was approaching a concrete pad on which there was a gas pump, an air hose, and a water hose. \u00a0Putting the now wrinkled bill that I had been squeezing unmercifully into my pocket I reached for the water hose. \u00a0Bending over I let the cool water splash onto my face. \u00a0Even though it smelled a bit like rubber the water felt good and helped me control my emotions a bit.<\/p>\n

Drying my face with my shirt sleeve I got my bearings and headed toward the gate.<\/p>\n

It was after I had boarded the bus and had taken my seat for the long trip home that the reality of what was about to happen crept up my spine like a slow cold chill.<\/p>\n

What would I tell my mother?<\/p>\n

I began to shake.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"